Talk about down to the wire. Why it was that the good guys – I’m positive we fall in that category – could never save the world early on was, I’ll never know. It’s like a curse or something. I bet you even if Chaz and I had managed to find all but two hours by December 2nd we would still be stuck in this same situation. Looking for the last two hours on December the 24th. The hours probably would have done it on purpose.
“You think it’s safe to move yet?” I whispered.
We both looked at Chaz who sighed and carefully peaked around the corner. The mansion that we had found ourselves had both of the missing hours. At least, we were pretty sure. The sofa-sleeper that would probably eat anyone who sat on it had chased us into a small nook.
One positive was that it had an hour embedded in it, and Chaz was pretty sure that he could sense another one somewhere else in the mansion. The negative was that we were totally getting creamed by a dirty floral print couch with a hideous avocado green, burnt orange, and goldenrod colored afghan. Keys weren’t the only things that were lost in this place. The couch had chased us into a dead end hallway that was too narrow for it to fit in. We hid in the nook, hoping the couch would think we weren’t there and leave.
“Still there,” Chaz whispered. “I swear it’s staring this way.”
“I can’t decide what is creepier,” Mills groaned. “The couch, or the fact that this hallway is full of empty key hooks.”
“That is kind of creepy,” I agreed.
“Did you actually expect to find keys hanging in this place?” Chaz asked.
“People lose keys in the most obvious and strangest of places,” I answered. “Which is why I’m not surprised this place has everything from pants pockets to refrigerators to countertops and couches. That doesn’t change the fact that the entire atmosphere of this place just downright gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“It’s like we walked into a bad horror film,” Mills agreed.
I eyed him carefully. “You watch bad horror films?”
“Hate them. I’m all for good suspense, but I really find hack-and-slash completely unappealing.”
“I have no idea what you two are talking about,” Chaz interrupted. “I know a little about movies and the different genres, but I haven’t really studied them.”
“Basically hack-and-slash is where a group of people go someplace and one by one they are all killed off by a monster or mass murderer throughout the entire movie,” Mills explained. “I haven’t actually watched one in a long time because they just gross and stupidly repetitive. Horror is supposed scare you, not make you gag.”
“Are we seriously going to discuss horror in the super creepy Hall of Misplaced Keys?” I demanded.
“Relax,” Mills teased. “We don’t have enough people here to pull off horror. Seriously, we’d all be dead in the first fifteen minutes and that wouldn’t be a movie. We’re probably more in a suspense-thriller.”
I punched him in the arm. “Stop it, will you? I swear I’m going to throw you at that floral nightmare.”
Chaz hissed something and Mills and I stopped. Chaz was pressed against the wall as he carefully peered around the corner. With how tense he was either the couch had now learned how to use the afghan as a lasso and was trying to rope us, or else it had called in an army of big purses to drag us out.
“It’s them,” he whispered.
“The thieves?” Mills guessed.
“I’m pretty sure it’s them,” Chaz said. “There’s a lot of them. They accidentally got the couch’s attention, but it’s still right in the way.”
“Where’s a window to jump through when you need it?” Mills demanded as he glared at the solid wall dead end.
No comments:
Post a Comment